


Slam Dunk

by Heliocat



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Basketball, Cute, Dog - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, Slam Dunk - Freeform, Teaching, friends - Freeform, practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heliocat/pseuds/Heliocat
Summary: Kagami spies Kuroko practicing basketball alone on a street court. He steps in and helps his teammate achieve a lifelong goal of scoring his first Slam Dunk. Cute fluff.
Relationships: Kagami Taiga & Kuroko Tetsuya
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Slam Dunk

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic that's been languishing on my hard-drive for a couple of years. It's just some cute fluff about a couple of friends helping each other out.  
> British English spellings used throughout, because that's just the way I roll.  
> Thanks to Tadatoshi Fujimaki for creating Kuroko No Basket - this is a work of fanfiction and I do not own the intellectual property.

In all honesty, Taiga Kagami was uncertain on his feelings about Tetsuya Kuroko. He wasn't sure if he'd call him a friend or acquaintance, or even just a 'team mate'. Theirs was a complicated relationship that was difficult to define, somewhere between ally and amigo. They'd been playing basketball together for almost a year now, and while they seemed to have meshed together seamlessly on the court, off it was a slightly different matter. Kuroko just wasn't the sort of person he would usually hang around with, not that he really had a type when it came to friends per-se, but the few he had gotten along well with in the past had always been quite bubbly and oozing confidence. Kuroko, however, was quiet, somewhat gloomy, and on first impressions he lacked a decent personality, or a personality at all for that matter. If he was a colour, Kagami reckoned Kuroko would be a light grey or beige, something bland and minimalistic that didn't leave any real impression upon you, as opposed to his own vibrant fire-red.

However, a designer is more likely to paint a house beige than red. Beige was a blank canvas. Beige blends in and has a certain warmth, unlike the cold and sterile cleanliness of its close cousin white. Beige is calming, relaxing and neutral, complimenting and harmonising other shades. Beige has the potential to go with anything. Most of all, beige has the potential to be exciting when it wants to be, especially if matched up with another colour.

One thing he was certain of; their developing friendship was an unconventional one. To begin with, Kagami had disliked him. He was a weedy, thin boy, with permanent bed-hair and blue eyes that seemed to bore right into your soul with an odd kind of deadpan, non-committal stare, which could be kind-of creepy. He rarely smiled, which was slightly disconcerting. In fact, he barely showed any emotions of any kind, positive or negative. He lacked presence if you were not actively looking for him, and had a horrible habit of sneaking up on you unexpectedly or appearing out of nowhere, which got pretty annoying at times. He'd played on the same side as the generation of miracles, so someone somewhere had recognised him as being a good player, but from what he'd seen in the beginning Kuroko was an average strength player at best, and at worst a complete klutz with no stamina. He could be beaten one-handed in a one-on-one match, and he couldn't shoot for shit. In fact, it wasn't until they started playing practice games that he realised exactly where Kuroko's particular brand of talent lay, and it was certainly impressive once you grasped the fundamentals of his ability.

He understood why, despite the abundant level of talent and skill hidden amongst the generation or miracles, Kuroko had been picked for the first team at Teiko Middle School. Kuroko was an asset in any team. He was good at what he did, and was seen as a secret weapon. His misdirection could easily make or break a game. His only major flaw was that he could not be 'good' alone. His talent, at present, only shone and worked effectively when incorporated into a team who gelled together, working like a well-oiled machine. It was understandable why he wanted to seek recognition; the generation of miracles all had a tendency to play only for themselves, and this trait had grown worse as the players improved their skills. Towards the end of their middle school career, the miracle generation had taken to competing against each other during matches, this being the only way they could enjoy the sport any more, almost completely ignoring their opponent as they tried to outdo each other’s individual score, such was the difference in power between Teiko and the rest of Japan. It was easy to see how Kuroko could have come to dislike basketball, knowing his worth was limited in a team of geniuses. His basketball relied heavily on camaraderie and team play, and he was a big believer in good sportsmanship. Kagami suspected there was probably more behind his strong beliefs than Kuroko was letting on, some past event or something someone said to him that resonated, but he never questioned it. Kuroko tended to become his most animated when he was berating him for ignoring the rest of the team. Kagami had also seen him completely lose his cool in relation to foul play and lack of respect between players – he could be damn-right scary when he was angry! He would probably speak more of it when the time was right. 

He'd once cryptically described himself as a shadow, who got darker and stronger the brighter the light became. Pretty apt description really. He'd said Kagami was his light, but in reality the entire team was; Kagami just happened to be the team poster boy. He was a hard worker, and he put the needs of the team above his own personal desires. If anything, he cared too much. And while he said he had no sense of humour, Kagami begged to differ. After being chased around the gymnasium by Kuroko holding a puppy, he could confirm that Kuroko had a rather cruel streak of sadistic glee hidden in that otherwise innocent-looking shell. Seriously, he was pure evil! Kagami found himself terrorised repeatedly by the awful combination of Kuroko’s ability to just appear out of nowhere, now made infinitely worse as he was usually holding a barking, salivating furball with fangs.

Pick on the guy with a phobia of dogs, why not. Haha, very funny.

If Kagami was to describe Kuroko in one word though, it probably wouldn't be 'shadow'. Shadows implied cold-heartedness and depression, and while Kuroko gave the impression of being gloomy and distant he was anything but. There was a fire in him, a passionate one, and it burned bright like a star. No, Kagami would describe him as 'determined'. He never gave up, never flinched through intimidation, and when kicked down he would bounce back even stronger. His mindset tended to rub off on his team members, and Seirin was known as the team that never backed down, even when the odds were against them. He knew what his strengths were and where his weaknesses lay. He knew he couldn't dribble or block defensively all that well. His short stature gave him a disadvantage with reach and jumps, and his stamina ran out pretty fast. He couldn't shoot. He could only steal and pass, and even that became less effective after about forty minutes once the opponents began noticing him. However, that didn't prevent him from striving to improve his skills.

He wanted to be more multi-purpose. If he could at least manage a half-decent hook shot, even if it wasn't overly accurate, it would increase his worth in game. It was not the first time Kagami had found him playing street ball alone, attempting unsuccessfully to improve his aim. Actually, now Kagami thought about it, since the winter training camp Kuroko could be found practicing alone in his spare time more and more often. Had Riko’s dad said something to him? Unfortunately, he seemed to have very little depth perception. He was so used to passing horizontally that the vertical angle of the basket proved a tricky obstacle for his eyes to adjust to.

Today, he had Number #2 with him. The dog sat patiently to the side of the scoring area, out of the way of his master's feet but watching everything that happened with a playful eye. His ears pricked up at the sound of shoes scuffing tarmac, and he barked loudly and ran to greet Kagami the moment he saw him. He may be called 'Tetsuya #2', but apart from sharing the same eye colour as Kuroko, the dog's personality was a polar opposite. Kagami had been hoping to just watch quietly for a bit and then slope away unnoticed - no chance of that now.

"Yaaargh!" Kagami replied, flinching as the dog danced around his legs, staring up at him the way dogs do, wagging his tail happily. Number #2 was a lot bigger now than when they'd first met, almost full-grown and reaching knee height. When he jumped up, his paws rested on Kagami’s thighs. "Ick! No matter how much I get used to having you around, I still can't shake off that uneasiness... I really don't like dogs!"

"Kagami-kun," Kuroko greeted. He didn't seem surprised in any way to see him there. "Hello."

"Afternoon," he replied gruffly. "Could you, maybe..."

"Number #2 - down! Heel!" Kuroko barked with some level of authority. The dog desisted its friendly attack, returning to Kuroko and panting with tongue lolling. "Good boy."

"Still can't shoot, huh?" Kagami commented. "You shouldn't worry too much about it."

"I know." Kuroko toyed with the ball clasped in his hands. "But... I dunno." Something was playing on his mind, that much was obvious. Did he maybe feel he was holding the team back with his average-ness? To be fair, without the ability to dribble well or shoot, he was little more than an uber-talented netball player. A wing attack, there for the offensive passes only. His vanishing drive was pretty terrifying though!

"You really want to be able to score that bad?"

"Well... it'd be nice on occasion maybe..." He glanced off and up to the side, contemplating.

"OK. Show me your shot. Let me take a look at it."

Kuroko jiggled tentatively on the balls of his feet, patted the ball to the ground a few times in a practice dribble, then threw it with a clumsy fumble of a shot that Kagami knew instantly would miss. The ball arced through the air with a lazy spin, thudded off the backboard, rolled around the lip of the basket a couple of times in a shaky dance before flopping dejectedly away from the net to the floor. It bounced a couple of times, rolling away towards the fence. Number #2 barked and chased after it, thinking the whole thing tremendous fun, batting it around with his paws and worrying it with his teeth. Kuroko sighed and glared - actually glared - up at the elusive basket.

"It never goes in," he said blandly.

"It never will, shooting like that," Kagami shrugged. "Your form is terrible!"

"I know," Kuroko sighed again. "I wonder sometimes... what does it actually feel like to dunk a ball successfully?" 

"Well, there's nothing on earth to compare with the splendour of a good solid dunk," Kagami reasoned. "It may not be the highest scorer, but it's dramatic, it involves a certain level of skill and flair, and best of all - it's a crowd pleaser."

Kuroko continued to gaze up at the basket, and did a strange experimental reach-and-jump below it. Then he snorted once with quiet laughter, a wan smile playing on his lips as he lowered his arms again.

"Stupid idea," he muttered. "Not like I can even reach the basket, never mind dunking anything through it. Stupid to even consider trying."

He walked over to where the ball had rolled, pausing briefly to ruffle the fur on his dog's head as he retrieved the ball from his overly-enthusiastic mouth. He wiped the drool from the ball's surface with the hem of his shirt.

Kagami watched and did a few mental calculations. Kuroko was quite small with a slim build. He couldn't weight much, and he barely reached shoulder-height compared to the average basketball player. Kagami tensed his arm and back muscles, judging their strength and ability. He wondered if this was how the coach felt sometimes, gauging what a person was capable of. His main power source was in his legs, but that wasn't to say the rest of him lagged behind. He could lift considerable weights in the gym, and as a consequence of living alone was very good at carrying an entire weeks' shop home, spread between several carrier bags. It should be no problem at all.

As Kuroko lined himself up for another attempt at the basket, Kagami strode forwards, planted his feet shoulder-width apart, bent his knees and grasped Kuroko's waist firmly from behind in both hands. He hoisted the smaller boy bodily into the air, holding him close to his chest so his legs and upper back took most of the strain, locking his arms and knees in place like a bodybuilder tackling a massive dumbbell.

At first, Kuroko tensed in panic. He was unsure of what exactly was going on, and taken unawares he made a small, squeaky gasp of surprise and seemed to curl in upon himself in reflex. He drew the basketball tight into his chest and tried not to accidentally kick the person holding him aloft as his legs wheeled freely in the air. Number #2 was barking excitedly and jumping up and down at Kagami's legs, tail wagging frantically like a metronome.

"Dammit dog!" Kagami hissed, shifting his weight slightly on the balls of his feet for a better grip. "Gerroff! You want me to drop him, because I swear I will!" Kuroko relaxed slightly as understanding on what had just happened finally permeated his brain. 

"W...what are you doing?" he stammered, twisting and trying to look down at Kagami but failing.

"Shut up!" Kagami growled, panting slightly from the exertion. His arms began to shake. "Don't squirm so much! Just dunk the damn ball already! You're heavier than you look!"

The hoop was right there, just above him. At this height, if he reached up, he should be able to... could just... just about... grab...

He grasped the basket with his left hand and pushed the ball into it with his right. Just as he did this, Kagami's ability to hold his weight gave out, Kuroko sliding out of his grip as gravity pulled him back down. He swung briefly from the basket as his fingers clenched automatically, before sliding off and falling to a crouched, cat-like landing, touching down almost simultaneously with the ball.

Kagami rolled his left shoulder, cupping it in his right hand as he manipulated the joint around.

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" Kuroko asked, concerned. "Because Coach will kill us if you did."

"I'm fine," he said gruffly, shrugging his shoulders a few times. He turned his back on Kuroko, hands on his hips, and inhaled deeply. There was a moment of silence between them. Words were unnecessary, and besides which, Kagami wasn't the touchy-feely-talky type.

"...Thank you, Kagami-kun," Kuroko eventually said.

"Don't sweat it!" Kagami replied. "And don't go getting any funny ideas about it either!"

"I won't." 

"You better not!"

“I won’t.”

“Besides, an alley-oop like that would be frowned upon in competition. No contact sport and all that. So it doesn’t really count!”

“I know.”

Kagami turned back to face Kuroko, and found he was wearing a small smile; not a large grin or a smirk, just a tiny Mona Lisa-type raising of the corners of the mouth. He’d retrieved the basketball, and was rolling it between his hands and staring intently at it.

“Kagami... I wonder if there is a way I could make a shot?” he pondered to himself. “A way suited to me?”

“No idea,” Kagami replied. “But if there is, you’ll no doubt find it.”

Kuroko lined up for a standard shot again, chucked the ball inelegantly up at the basket, and consequently missed the score again. He snorted, a possible precursor to a laugh.

“It’d be nice to figure it out before the end of the Winter Cup,” he said mildly.

Kagami roughly ruffled his hair, earning a muffled squeak of indignation from Kuroko as he pressed down a little too hard for the smaller boy to handle, and he buckled slightly from the pressure. Not since Aomine had he had a friend who was so rough with him…

“Aomine… kun?” he muttered, mostly to himself but Kagami overheard.

“Did a rebound hit you in the head or something? I’m Kagami, not Aomine, urgh! How could you confuse me with that bastard – I’m insulted!”

“No, I just had an idea,” Kuroko said. He continued muttering to himself, obviously planning something out. “I need to get him interested first though… that might be hard. That might be impossible. I wonder if we can do it?” Frowning slightly, he picked up his bag from the floor by the hoop and, with his basketball tucked under one arm, turned to leave. “Kagami-kun… thanks again!”

“Erm… yeah,” Kagami said, confused. “Well, see you tomorrow, I guess.”

“Yes. Have a good evening.” Kuroko left the courts, Number #2 following close behind with tongue lolling. They rounded the corner and vanished up the road – almost literally, given Kuroko’s lack of presence.

“What did he mean about Aomine?” Kagami wondered. He shrugged, and continued his walk home. Kuroko had obviously had some idea. With any luck, it was an idea that would benefit not only him, but the whole team. Kagami could only wish him luck, and hope that whatever it was going on in his head, it came to fruition successfully.

Kuroko had a habit of surprising everyone, after all.


End file.
